


Ginger Snap

by Nerd_by_Definition



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Streets of Gotham (Comics), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Colin Wilkes is Abuse, Colin Wilkes needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Jason Todd, Jason Todd is Red Hood, JayDick-Flashfic, Let Colin be his Son, Let Jason be a Dad, M/M, Mentioned Bruce Wayne, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, POV Jason Todd, Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, but Jason doesn't realize it, oh god am I doing this right, prompt: big plans, so be gentle with me, there might not be enough jaydick to qualify tho, unexpected child acquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28567197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerd_by_Definition/pseuds/Nerd_by_Definition
Summary: Jason finally meets Abuse, the mysterious vigilante who's been crashing all his fights lately, and starts considering the merits of parenthood, among other things. Thankfully, Dick is there to offer advice.~~~~~~~~~~"There’s a shift in the shadows as the monstrous form ripples and shrinks down into the small body of a ginger-haired boy no older than Damian. He shrugs off the weighty brass knuckles and coat, tucking them into a bag hidden behind the dumpster, before scurrying towards the orphanage’s back entrance.Jason stands frozen in place for countless minutes as his thoughts race, questions stumbling over themselves to be answered. However, the only thing he can articulate fully is, what the fuck?"
Relationships: Damian Wayne & Colin Wilkes, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Colin Wilkes
Comments: 22
Kudos: 137
Collections: Jaydick Flash Fanwork Challenge





	Ginger Snap

**Author's Note:**

> AHHH this is exciting and scary! The last time I posted a fic was on ff.net many years ago so please be gentle. 
> 
> Anyway, after reading Batman Streets of Gotham #10 & #11, I couldn't stop thinking about the similarities between Colin & Jason and the potential there for a relationship that could rival Dick & Damian for Best Unofficial Father/Son Duo. So if no one else was gonna do it, I figured I'd try my hand at it.
> 
> Please enjoy my Colin is Jason's Son Agenda, with a healthy dose of Jaydick pining

Jason grunts as yet another thug tackles him to the ground. Apparently, he’d grossly underestimated how many hired guns it takes to make a drug deal in Gotham these days. It used to be that a handful of help could go a long way when it came to illegal transactions in the abandoned buildings of Gotham, but clearly, standards have changed and he’s the last to know. Typical.

The thug was more “brute force” than “trained fighter” so the fact they easily knocked Jason down was just embarrassing at this point. He hoped no bats were watching, they’d never let him live it down. Granted, his hip still burned from the sword fight with Talia’s men last week. You steal one ancient scroll for a job and get rewarded with a bloody gash down your side. He knew she was more irritated than anything else though, considering he wasn’t gutted and left for dead, but the wound still stung like a bitch. And it made Jason slow. Hence, the up close and personal chat with the ground as the raging thug rained down hits on his helmet.

Jason recovered quickly enough to dislodge the man with a swift leg choke, remembering all the times he fell victim to _this_ particular move from a certain Pretty Bird. Of course, most of those fights ended in stony silences and painful weeks of avoiding one another, but that didn’t stop Jason from imagining the more _gratifying_ situations in which said pin could be used. Flushing now with both arousal and embarrassment ( _wow, he hoped this didn’t awaken anything in himself_ ) he sat up and punched the thug out cold.

He was slow to rise, hip aching even more from the unadvisable leg trick, but found himself completely flummoxed at the sight of the remaining goons moaning on the ground already. He teetered next to a dumpster and watched as an impossibly large, ginger-haired man in a tan trenchcoat and hat threw the last whimpering thug into a nearby car. He looked like the offspring of Roy and Bane which caused Jason to shudder in horror. 

The man brushed his hands off as he surveyed the unconscious criminals with grim satisfaction. An absurd wave of petty jealousy rose in Jason at the fact that he needed help to finish these low-level crooks. The Red Hood took great pride in dealing with the scum on the streets which most Bats let slip, knowing first-hand the kind of damage they could do to the everyday people if left unchecked, and he held this fact over his fellow family members constantly; no crime was too big or too small for the infamous vigilante. But now he couldn’t even keep the streets safe without the help of the mysterious hulking man known only as Abuse. 

This wasn’t the first time Abuse had crashed one of Jason’s “parties” when apprehending criminals even though he knew next to nothing about the juiced up menace. More often than not, the red-head would disappear before Jason had the chance to confront him which only served to piss him off even more. Who was this guy who thought he could move in on his turf? 

Of course, Jason knew how ridiculous he sounded since Abuse had never given him reason to fight, but the scrappy street kid in him bristled at the unwanted help; overbearing Bats nosing their way into his business was one thing but this guy was certainly no Bat. At least, Jason was 75% sure he wasn’t a Bat. Who knew with Bruce’s proclivity for taking in lost souls.

Jason moved to address the mysterious man but Abuse just stiffened his shoulders before running off at a speed no man his size should be able to achieve. Jason swallowed down the pain of his hip and limped after him, determined to follow. He didn’t know if it was one too many unexpected team-ups, the pain in his hip, or the lingering arousal for one unobtainable bluebird that urged him on, but Jason was overcome with the need to settle this once and for all. Maybe he’d even get a good fight out of it since those useless idiots back there apparently weren’t enough to quench the thirst.

The trail was surprisingly easy to follow as he stealthily swung from the rooftops. The man carefully ducked in and out of shadows, completely aware of every limb so as to not shock or frighten people along the route with his appearance. Something about his stilted movements reminded Jason of the creature in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, striking a cord a little too deep for comfort. With all of Jason’s own mangled scars and crooked features, he felt a sort of solidarity with those who feared to be seen. Yet another reason why he knew Dick would never stoop to be with a creature as damaged as him. The flawless Golden Boy could never.

He was snapped out of his misery by the odd but recognizable scenery of the Narrows. Abuse had taken a route towards a nearby orphanage Jason had visited many times; the Catholic-run St. Aidans was one that’d been around since he was a child, where he often played with the kids after attending mass with his mom. The kids were just as troubled and hardened as most orphans in Gotham tend to be, but the St. Aidans kids never flinched away from the adults in charge and Jason used to envy the sad peace they seemed to live in. When Jason himself became orphaned, he’d toyed with the idea of begging Sister Agnes, the matriarch of the orphanage, to take him in, but he got too caught up in car theft and Batman-sized headaches before he had the chance.

As Red Hood, Jason made it a policy to donate whatever spare cash he made (stole, confiscated, all the same really) to institutions like St. Aidans; the same way Wayne Enterprises invested in the community. As Jason Peters, he made a point of volunteering whenever he needed to be reminded of the lives at stake and the people who needed protecting.

Seeing Abuse drop into the alley behind the orphanage, Jason tensed, mind racing through attack plans and contingencies that would net the least amount of damage and casualties. His hand twitched to grip his dagger, breath quiet and even as he shifted to the balls of his feet in preparation for a jump. A stray ( _traitorous_ ) thought that sounded too much like Nightwing’s soothing commands, reminds Jason to _properly tuck and roll for a safe landing_ when he’s distracted by the most unexpected turn of events he should’ve seen coming a mile away.

There’s a shift in the shadows as the monstrous form ripples and shrinks down into the small body of a ginger-haired boy no older than Damian. He shrugs off the weighty brass knuckles and coat, tucking them into a bag hidden behind the dumpster, before scurrying towards the orphanage’s back entrance. 

Jason stands frozen in place for countless minutes as his thoughts race, questions stumbling over themselves to be answered. However, the only thing he can articulate fully is, _what the fuck?_

~~~~~~~~~~

Days later, Jason sits crouched on a roof across from the orphanage, watching the children play during recess. His tainted teal eyes follow the lone red-headed boy as he sits reading on the empty swing set. The other children race around him but the boy makes no effort to join in their games. He’s solemn, withdrawn, and gives off an air of weariness more fitting for brooding in the batcave than enjoying a nice day on a playground set. His clothes are well-worn and sturdy but clearly at least two-sizes too big. Occasionally, his pale blue eyes abruptly look up in search of something before dropping down with a sigh of disappointment. 

Once he’d overcome his momentary bewilderment, Jason had quickly gone to work dredging up every scrap of information he could get on “Abuse” and with each new piece of the puzzle, Jason’s usually righteous anger boiled into mind-numbing rage. His hands shook as he read file after file in the batcave (because of course Bruce had something to do with it) about a boy--Colin Wilkes, aged ten--who fell victim to one of the Scarecrow’s anti-Batman experiments. Pumped full of Venom, courtesy of Bane, (more like “stolen from,” Jason suspected), the poor boy transformed into a monstrous form capable of crushing skulls with his bare hands. The details of the mission were barebones, but the boy went toe to toe with Batman afterwards and later turned on Crane himself, nearly beating him to death before the Old Man stepped in. 

Typical, Jason scoffed.

He was surprised that Bruce left the boy in the orphanage afterwards instead of pinning the scaly shorts and cape onto yet another child. Based on the few sightings and newspaper articles Jason dug up, Colin (when did the kid become _Colin_ in his head) clearly held no qualms with entering the vigilante life. He wondered briefly if any of the Bats have tried (and _failed_ ) to talk ( _scare_ ) him out of following in their footsteps. Sparks of fear licked at his spine as he thought back to all the times he saw Abuse stumbling away from fights hunched over in pain or rushing into the violent fray with no backup. 

He’s reminded of Dick running himself ragged alone in Bludhaven, taking hits he’d never usually let in and stumbling across the skyline where the acrobat usually flies with ease and grace.

Gut clenching with worry, Jason feels the seeds of an absurd idea attempt to take root. 

He watches the boy stare blankly at the busy streets, subtly hunched over on his left side where Jason remembered a thug got a good lick in during the drug bust. His pale hands tremble as he shifts around on his seat, trying desperately to hide his injuries from the watchful nuns. How in the _hell_ has this kid lasted this long on his own?

Hands fisted tightly, Jason abruptly stands and races to the edge. He needs to leave before he does something ridiculous. His rage is moments away from lashing out and he’s already composed a list of suitable victims for the punishment. It looks like Doctor Jonathan Crane, currently locked up in Arkham Asylum, is Lucky Number One.

He’s hanging half off the building when he senses a change in the situation below. Glancing down, Jason gawks as one Damian Wayne of all people, dressed in jeans and a sweater, struts into the St. Aidans playground. He’s helplessly confused as young Colin spots the Demon Brat and actually smiles. He races to intercept him with a barely noticeable limp and a hug that Damian surprisingly tolerates. The two sneak away from the orphanage with little to no difficulty and disappear out of Jason’s eyeline.

_What. The. Fuck._

~~~~~~~~~~

“So I’ve finally got the guy pinned, ready for the whole mission to be over by this point, when I hear a cry of pain to my left. I look over concerned, because Robin had told me he took out the last crony already, only to see him trying to carry the kidnapped girl out of the warehouse. She had fistfulls of his hair and was pulling so hard I thought she was gonna tear it out!”

Jason sits lost in thought as Dick’s steady voice washes over him. The duo are sitting next to Jason’s favorite Gargoyle as they unwind from patrol. It’d been relatively peaceful, so the two had fallen into a game of Rooftop Tag after crossing paths with Steph and Cass. As much as Jason complained about his overbearing family, he delighted in moments where he could just let go of the stresses and responsibilities of the caped life and just fly across his beloved city knowing they were there to catch him if he fell. He didn’t use to feel so (dare he say it) _trusting_ with his fellow Bats but one can only withstand so much of Dick Grayson’s persistent pestering before giving in. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud.

Dick huffed, smiling to himself as he continued his story about his last mission with Damian. “The poor kid was fuming but managed to wrestle the girl into the back of the ambulance with minimal injuries. Though I swear that girl did more damage than every thug in that building!”

Try as he might, Jason’s thoughts couldn’t help circling back to the Demon Brat and the St. Aidans Kid. Did they know about each other’s secret lives? How did they meet? What do they do together?

“And his face! I’d never seen him blush so hard.”

Does Dick know?

“I was so proud of him. He didn’t even scold the girl! He’s really come a long way when it comes to dealing with civilians.”

Should Jason do something about Colin?

“Hey Hood, you okay?”

He's startled out of his reverie by Dick’s warm hand on his shoulder. Looking into his amused eyes, the younger man feels his cheeks burn from getting caught in his own head. Dick’s fond look morphs into worry when Jason looks away, lip caught between his teeth.

The silence stretches as Dick stares at him, squeezing Jason’s shoulder firmly. It was times like this where Jason fell for Dick all over again; he always seemed to know what Jason needed even when he didn’t know he needed it. Even when he didn’t want it. Dick’s uncanny ability to see through Jason left him off-kilter around him, afraid of what he might let slip. Afraid of what Dick already knew. It made him lash out more than usual towards the older man when he first came back. Never one to back down from a challenge, the Golden Boy had responded in equal measure. Push after push, with an abundance of failed peace-offerings Jason didn’t deserve and even more violence both deeply regretted, they two had finally struck an uneasy truce. Of course, Dick’s stubborn kindness and unexplainable determination in befriending him reignited Jason’s decade-long childhood crush on the man. Despite every sour thing that had tainted their relationship in the past, Jason couldn’t help but relish the limited time spent in the older man’s company (and selfishly yearn for more.) It didn’t take long for Dick to start picking at Jason’s walls until there were more holes than wall.

The gentle hand on his shoulder squeezed once more as bright blue eyes waited for Jason to open up. Or change the subject. He’d learned when to push Jason for more and when to let things go.

Taking a deep breath, Jason looked across the city skyline. “Do you ever think about...about doing what B did?”

At Dick’s narrowed-eyed confusion, Jason continued. “Like...like taking on a partner. To quit the solo act.”

Jason’s shoulder felt cold as Dick withdrew his hand to fiddle with his escrima stick. His maskless blue eyes considered Jason thoughtfully. “You mean like the Outlaws or the Titans?”

“No, no, I mean like Robin. Like Batman and Robin. Taking on someone who, with a little help and guidance, could really become something, you know?”

Dick’s wide-eyed stare made Jason shift uncomfortably.

“Nevermind, this was just...forget about it. I don’t know what I-”

“I know what you mean.”

Dick’s soft proclamation halted Jason’s embarrassed retreat. 

“After Bruce came back, there was a moment where I wanted to keep Damian with me.” Jason’s gut clenches at the wistful look on Dick’s face. “He was _my_ Robin, we had done so much together and I knew there was so much more we could achieve together. But I felt too young for that kind of responsibility at the time. He needed a father and I...I wasn’t sure I could be that for him then.”

A beat of silence. “And now?”

“Now…” Dick’s shoulders slump in resignation. “Now, I do what I can for him.”

Dick’s love for the Brat was obvious to anyone with eyes and, Jason thought bitterly, Dick already was more of a father to Damian than Bruce was half of the time. But Jason understood the significance of the older man opening himself up to him in this moment and felt compelled to answer in kind. 

“There’s this kid. Lives at St. Aidans orphanage down by the Narrows. He was,” Jason swallows the lump of despair and rage in his throat. “He was experimented on by Scarecrow with Venom awhile back. Whatever that lunatic did to him, gave him the ability to turn into some sort of Monstrous Man and I just…”

Dick nods along, understanding dawning in his eyes. Jason wasn’t sure if he recognized the description as Abuse or if he even knew about Damian’s friend Colin, but Jason’s tense shoulders eased a little.

“You want to help him.” It wasn’t a question but Jason felt the statement settle into his bones.

Still, he weakly tried to resist it. “He doesn’t need my kind of help. I sure as fuck can’t be a, a-”

He couldn’t even say it. How could he? After the shitshow that was Willis Todd and the mess between him and Bruce, what possible future did Jason have as a _father_? 

“Does he show any indication of wanting to do what we do?”

“Stupidly, yes. Irresponsibly. He goes into fights with more brawn than brains and relies too much on his brute strength to keep him afloat. He has no support system and I doubt he even has basic medical knowledge for dealing with injuries,” Jason fumed as he got up to pace the empty rooftop.

Dick stood too, leaning against the gargoyle. Grinning, he asked, “Would you help him just as the Red Hood or would you go further?”

Jason furrowed his brows in thought. The Red Hood had too much of a reputation. There’s no way he could instill trust without taking the helmet off; the proof was in the pudding considering the kid had never even tried to stick around for a chat with him after their many impromptu team-ups. However, he could use one of his respectable aliases to get in the door, maybe have Babs help him with the proper paperwork. Not that orphanages in Gotham really cared where their poor charges ended up most of the time.

Shaking his head mid-thought, Jason huffed. “This is ridiculous, I’m not B. I can’t just waltz in and adopt a kid. I’m barely in my twenties and I beat up criminals every night; those aren’t indicators of a healthy and happy home. Fuck, _I_ barely had a childhood, how am I supposed to provide one for someone else? I can’t take care of a kid.”

Dick looked thoughtful. “Maybe...maybe not. Even if you don’t make it official, you could still mentor Colin. I’m sure he’d jump at the chance when he finds out you were once Robin.”

So Dick does know about Colin. Jason wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Did he once feel this same protective urge for the boy too? If so, why didn’t he act? If Dick didn’t feel qualified to raise a kid, even when he’d been practically delivered one on a silver platter (Damian), then what chance did Jason have?

“He needs help, Dick. But I don’t know if I’m the one who-”

Jason looks up to find Dick mere inches from him, smiling softly. He’s frozen in stunned silence as Dick gently lays a hand on his cheek. “Stop doubting yourself, Little Wing. I’ve met Colin a couple of times and he reminded me so much of you. I think you should do it. Whatever you decide ‘it’ is.”

Jason’s fingers tap nervously against his thigh, suddenly overcome with the need to either pull Dick closer or get away from his overwhelming presence and breathe. 

“I believe in you, Jay. And I’ll support you in whatever you decide.” 

_Even against Bruce?_ Jason thinks bitterly, knowing better than to say it out loud in this moment. He doesn’t want to risk breaking their hard-won peace streak now. But he knows the Bat would never allow someone as “criminally unstable” as Jason to parent a kid. At least not unsupervised. Though the thought of calling the Old Man “Grandpa Wayne” makes Jason’s mouth twitch.

The burning hand on his cheek drops to his shoulder to squeeze it once more as Dick steps away from him. A flash of something crosses Dick’s face, something that looks an awful lot like disappointment, which bewilders Jason. Did he hear what he thought? It wouldn’t be the first time Jason accused Dick of being a mind-reader. But the tinge of sadness in his eyes felt more significant than that. As if he was waiting for Jason to do something. He needs more air to think about all of this.

Sighing, Jason shuffles to pick up his helmet and latch it on once more. As much as Dick could read him, Jason still struggled with understanding the Golden Boy. Hell, he still didn’t understand why Dick bothered with him at all. Giving one last wave, Jason swung away from the building, too lost in thought to see Dick’s wistful frown following his retreating form.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jason hadn’t quite made up his mind on what to do to help the kid when he accidentally ran into him again mid-fight. 

Abuse was surrounded by goons down by the pier, ducking between crates to avoid the gunfire as he made a beeline for the large open crate closest to the dock. Jason spot a couple of whimpering children being dragged in, hands shackled, and felt a surge of fierce anger. 

As Abuse distracted the bulk of the forces, Jason snuck up to the guards by the crate and with two quick strikes knocked them both out. Hiding inside with the rest of the frightened children, he shushed them softly and waited for the thugs escorting the others to approach. The whimpering quieted upon Jason’s presence as starry eyed children who had grown up with stories of the deadly Red Hood hoped for a swift rescue.

Jason took down the rest of the children’s guards with ease. He turned to lead the children out of the crate when a piercing cry struck him cold. _No, no, no. He’s okay. He has to be okay_ . _Fuck, I didn’t even get to talk to him yet_. Whirling around with guns held high, Jason rushed into the fray of bullets in search of Abuse.

_I’m already fucking up this mentor-thing, huh_.

He found the hulking figure pinning what looked like the leader of this group of human traffickers up against the wall of a crate with one hand, the other was pressed against his side where a knife sat lodged. Jason shot the struggling man in the knee, causing him to screech in pain. Surprised by the assist, Abuse momentarily released the man who crumpled to the ground.

Jason kicked him in the head, wishing he could deliver a harsher justice upon the asshole. If it weren’t for the fear of enduring Dick’s disappointed frown or losing his tentative place in the family’s good graces, he would do far worse. All things considered, this group got off easy since he wasn’t fully aware of their despicable activities until just now. Damn, was he really getting that out of touch with the Criminal Underbelly of Gotham? The lingering sting of his hip wound voted yes. 

Jason’s brought out of his violent haze by Abuse’s pained gasp. He yanks the knife out of the wound by himself, desperately trying to stem the blood flow with the fabric of his trenchcoat. Jason steps up to the “man” who towers over him and offers a hand.

“Here, let me help, Ginger Snap.” 

The boy-turned-man freezes, wide blue eyes caught between relief and distrust, reminding Jason of another little boy from years ago who’s only hope was a tire iron and a Bat. 

Jason takes the coat and wraps it tightly around the wound. “Don’t worry, it looks like it missed all the important bits. You should still have me look at it, though.”

Meanwhile, the children from the crate trickle over to hide with their protectors, some clinging on to Jason while most stand at a distance, frightened of the bleeding monstrous man.

Abuse senses their fear and tries to retreat, making Jason’s heart ache for the poor creature. He gently whispers instructions to the anxious children about where to hide in the meantime and what to say when the police arrive. The oldest ones accept the responsibility of watching the younger and Jason feels confident enough to leave them for Abuse, who hadn’t gotten very far with his injuries.

“Hey!” Jason approaches the “man” with caution, hands raised and weapons securely put away. He didn’t think Abuse would try to fight him off, but he tensed in preparation of one anyway. “I was serious back there. Let me help you patch up. That cut looked nasty.”

Abuse looks on solemnly. “You’re the Red Hood.”

“I am.”

“You’re a criminal and a drug lord.”

“Eh, it’s debatable now. Gave most of that up to keep the family happy.”

A moment of silence stretches until Jason starts to wonder if he really was ridiculous for trying this. Who was he kidding? Why would anyone want his help? He didn’t know how to talk to kids. This was _stupid, stupid, stupid_.

“Is it true you work with Batman?”

Jason pauses his inner self-beratement to see the excitement in Abuse’s eyes. He nods. “I do sometimes. When he’s being reasonable, that is.”

Remembering what Dick told him, he adds on “I was Robin once, afterall.”

Abuse’s eyes somehow shine even brighter with the knowledge and Jason’s struck with the odd sensation of being at the receiving end of hero-worship. He’s not sure how he feels about it. Especially from someone who towers over him with muscles bigger than Bruce’s.

The sound of sirens breaks their silent moment, a flash of panic crossing the bigger man’s eyes as they spot the distant red and blue.

Jason gently offers him his hand, taking off his helmet so all but his masked-eyes are visible. “I just want to help you.”

Abuse bites his lip, eyes searching Jason’s form for any sign of treachery. This hesitancy was all Jason needed to see to know this was a boy used to the callous streets of Gotham. A boy who knew how few and far between genuine kindness came about for the likes of them. A boy who knew the stinging violence of unhappy souls and the false handouts that always demanded something in return. Jason figured he did have some ulterior motives to helping Abuse right now, but they all fell into the category of _Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Jason, Please Help This Poor Boy By Any Means Necessary_.

Heaving a great nervous sigh, Abuse closes his eyes and nods once. Doing his best impression of Dick, Jason waits patiently as the boy-turned-monster slowly reverts into a boy once more. His side is bleeding heavily with the too big coat hanging loose around his smaller form now. His ginger hair is damp from exertion and tears wet his startling pale blue eyes. 

Jason’s heart aches once again for this poor boy, crouching down to fix the makeshift coat-bandage. “Alright, Ginger Snap. Let’s get out of here and patch you up, okay?”

The boy nods, hesitantly reaching out to take Jason’s outstretched hand. “I...my name is Colin…”

Picking the boy up gently, Jason smiles back when he feels Colin’s small arms tighten around his neck. “Hi, Colin. I’m Jason.”

  
  



End file.
